


and yet we go on

by Eclarius



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: (sort of), AU ending for Stride Gate, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cardfight!! Vanguard G: Stride Gate, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Not Compliant with Cardfight!! Vanguard G: NEXT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclarius/pseuds/Eclarius
Summary: No one knew where Shion was when the Stride Gate closed.In fact, it was like he had never been there in the first place.(AU where Shion dies at the end of Stride Gate, but with a twist.)
Relationships: Anjou Tokoha & Kiba Shion & Shindou Chrono, Kiba Shion & Shindou Chrono
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	and yet we go on

_“I hope that by sending you back, everything is on the right track. Forever.”_

* * *

In hindsight, Chrono doesn’t know how it took him so long to realize.

(How long it took all of them to realize.)

After the shock of defeating Myoujin Ryuzu and the whole thing with Chrono Dran wore off, Chrono suddenly realized two things:

One, he was holding an actual baby. Who also happened to be Myoujin Ryuzu. Who was, not 10 minutes ago, about to destroy another planet.

Two, Ibuki was literally lying somewhere dying.

And so, he did the only logical thing he could: desperately search the area.

He ran into Jaime and Kamui before he found Ibuki, then Tokoha and Taiyou just after they found him. Rummy Labyrinth and the remaining members of Company emerged shortly after. 

Amidst all the explanations of where the baby had come from, and Ibuki, and the rest of the madness, Chrono just… didn’t realize.

He didn’t realize that there should have been one more voice around, probably reviewing the extent of Ibuki’s injuries, or predicting how long it would take for an ambulance to arrive in the area, or debating about what to do with Chrono’s newly acquired baby.

It wasn’t until they were heading out of the hospital to figure out what to do with the members of Company that Chrono turned, looked at the crowd around him, and frowned.

“Where’s Shion?” he asked, scanning the faces.

Tokoha’s eyes widened as she also started looking around. Taiyou startled and went for his phone. Am also looked slightly alarmed. 

But, Kamui and Jaime, they just looked… confused? 

(Why would they be confused?)

Chrono was about to repeat his question when Kamui just - 

“Who’s Shion?” Kamui asked, looking genuinely mystified.

Chrono’s world wobbled upon its already crumbling foundations. 

“What do you mean ‘who’s Shion?’” he replied shakily, “you know, Kiba Shion? Me and Tokoha’s teammate?”

Jaime blinked, exchanged a hesitant glance with Kamui, then slowly said, “Chrono, your teammates are Tokoha and Taiyou?”

Chrono looked over at Tokoha, who appeared just as shaken as he felt, and Taiyou, who exuded pure confusion.

A sudden laugh tore Chrono out of his thoughts.

Shinonome Shouma was laughing so hard that he was practically hyperventilating.

Chrono didn’t know what exactly happened to his friends when they entered the Stride Gate, but on the way to the hospital he’d pieced together enough to know that they had each fought someone that was significant to them. Meaning, Shion had obviously faced Shinonome Shouma.

“What happened to him,” Chrono demanded, edging closer to Shinonome.

Between laughs, Shinonome choked out, “He wouldn’t stand up! He just wouldn’t stand up!”

Chrono felt the world shifting beneath his feet.

“Where. Is. Shion,” he ground out, staring Shinonome dead in the eye, “where is he?!”

“He did so brilliantly,” Shinonome carried on, now only half laughing and eyes glazing over, “pushed me right out of the way even though he knew he’d get crushed. Crushed like an ant. Crushed by a boulder trying to save his enemy, what a fitting end to Kiba Shion - ”

In an uncharacteristic and involuntary rush of anger, Chrono punched Shinonome in the face. He could hear the exclamations and movements behind him, but he didn’t care.

Shinonome stopped. He calmed, and looked at Chrono properly. The unnerving way that he always does. They stayed like that, frozen, for a few seconds.

And then, Shinonome smirked.

It was a delighted, cruel smirk.

“You know,” he said, voice lilting in the way Chrono knew that Shion hated, “Kiba Shion used to punch harder than that.”

And with that, Chrono’s world came crashing down just as abruptly as it had reformed.

* * *

They couldn’t have a real funeral.

Not for someone who had seemingly never existed.

Tokoha had scoured missing persons reports, then obituaries, for weeks on end. Nothing.

Am had gathered all the resources she used to tear him down all those months ago, and turned up with nothing.

(Apparently, the current Kiba head had no heir.)

Taiyou had searched every website and database that should have had a mention of him. Vanguard tournaments, fencing tournaments, the occasional news article, social media profiles, even school registration and birth certificates. There was nothing.

Chrono spent hours each day walking around the district where the Stride Gate had opened, looking for something. Anything. 

But he found nothing.

His phone number was disconnected; any messages he sent had disappeared. Any picture that had him in it was inexplicably altered or simply ceased to exist. His seat in class had apparently been empty since the beginning of the school year, when a classmate had unexpectedly moved away.

There was simply no evidence that Kiba Shion had ever existed.

And you couldn’t mourn someone who had never existed.

Chrono supposed that to Mikuru, it just seemed like one day, her nephew became very depressed. He stopped smiling, his grades dropped, and he spent most of his time walking around the same city blocks. Retracing his steps, over and over again, all for some unknown reason.

After all, when questioned, it was not like Chrono could explain.

So, he just tried his best to carry on. Tried his best to carry on, and tried to feel thankful that there were a few people that he could share this burden with.

Because in some strange twist of fate, the only people who could remember the existence of Kiba Shion were the ones who had entered the Stride Gate.

There were exactly ten people who remembered Kiba Shion. One was his mortal enemy; another was probably just on the edge of that category. Two of them barely had any idea who he was. 

One of them was an infant, and Chrono honestly didn’t know if he actually remembered Shion. But he counted him anyway, because even if one of the ten people who remembered Shion was Myoujin Ryuzu, at least then there would be ten people instead of nine.

Ten people on a rooftop wasn’t a big funeral. It wasn’t the funeral that Shion deserved, and it probably wasn’t the funeral that Shion would have wanted.

But it was the only funeral that he would be able to get.

As ten people gathered on a rooftop, _their_ rooftop, the one with the view of the Tokyo Skytree, Chrono glanced around.

They had all brought flowers and dressed in black. Tokoha was quietly sobbing in a back corner, with Taiyou comforting her through his own tears. Chrono knew that she was trying to stay strong to not worry her family, so it was good that she could let it all out now.

Am and Luna were clutching each other, teary-eyed. Neither of them had known Shion for particularly long, or particularly well in the case of Luna, but he’d had his impact. Especially for Am, who seemed genuinely remorseful and had been particularly helpful and willing in their frantic hunt for evidence.

(Too little, too late.)

Ibuki stood near the back, holding baby Ryuzu. Ibuki never quite looked like he belonged anywhere, and the baby certainly did not help. But as he caught his eye, Chrono could detect some emotions shuttering across his somber face. 

After Ibuki had recovered from his injuries, Chrono broke the news to him about Shion. Astoundingly, Ibuki had responded by apologizing. As if it was somehow his fault that Shion’s hero complex led him to do what he did. As if Myoujin Ryuzu was all his fault, and that his failure to defeat him earlier was the reason why Shion was gone.

Chrono disagreed. Ibuki had made his mistakes, but he had done his best.

If anything, this was entirely Chrono’s fault. If the Depend Cards hadn’t been stolen under his carelessness, then the Stride Gate would have never been opened in the first place. If he’d been less overconfident, if he’d just stayed put, if he’d just listened to Shion - 

Of course, it was because of Shion that Chrono was even rescued at all.

(And look how Chrono repaid him.)

Continuing his scan of the rooftop, Chrono spotted Shinonome in the other back corner. He looked calm, if not borderline apathetic. Chrono was understanding more and more why Shinonome had irked Shion so much. There was something incredibly unsettling about him. He was the one who had witnessed Shion’s death, yet here he was, seeming almost unperturbed.

Enishi and Hiroki were standing together, off to the side. They had never known Kiba Shion, Hiroki especially. But they’d still heard of him, heard of his reputation, and heard of his character. They may not know him, but they still remembered Kiba Shion.

Chrono turned back around, took a deep breath, and knelt down beside their improvised memorial.

There were no pictures of Shion that they could use, so Tokoha had bought a copy of Blue Sky Knight, Altmile for them to frame.

The card was new, shiny, and crisp. Shion treated all his cards with great care, but none of his cards were as pristine as this Altmile. None of his cards had felt as unplayed, as uncherished, as bought.

Carefully, Chrono laid down his bouquet in front of the memorial.

There weren’t any speeches at this funeral. Tokoha could barely get a few sentences out before she was reduced to tears and Chrono himself couldn’t make a speech on a good day. No one else felt close enough to Shion to speak.

So, here he was, trying to convey all that he could with a bouquet.

Standing up, he looked down at the purple asters he had just lain.

Aster, scientific name: _Aster tataricus_.

Japanese name: “shion”. 

Meaning in Japanese flower language: 

_“I won’t forget you.”_

(He wanted to scream about the irony of it all.)

* * *

At some point after Ibuki gets involved, they manage to construct a timeline of the past year.

When Team TRY3 was first formed, the third member of the team had been Okazaki Kumi. They had gone to the regional qualifier, where Kumi lost to Shinonome, resulting in their elimination from the tournament.

They had still gone on to challenge Team Demise at the United Sanctuary Branch, but Kumi lost again to Shinonome. Chrono still defeated Branch Chief Kanzaki, but Team TRY3 did not become legendary that day.

After the United Sanctuary incident, Kumi quit the team due to lack of confidence. Taiyou joined, and the three of them took on the G Quests together.

Taiyou couldn’t beat Sharlene Chen in the Magallanica Branch Quest, nor could he gather as many points as Shion did in the Dragon Empire Branch Quest. The rest of the G Quests went about as expected, and Team TRY3 finished with a respectable 52 points.

There was never an Ultimate Stage because there was no unbeatable team who dominated the G Quests.

Team TRY3 was just your run-of-the-mill team that managed to secure more than 50 points.

They were nothing special.

* * *

There were some days when Chrono wondered, and sometimes those days overlapped with when Tokoha wondered.

Because didn’t it make sense to wonder?

Shion is - was, had been - a tactical genius. 

But so was Shinonome.

Shion was (had been) clever, always three steps ahead, but he was not (had not been) infallible.

The only reason they had to believe that Shion was gone - beyond the lack of evidence that he had ever been here in the first place - was Shinonome’s word.

Was it so inconceivable to believe that Shinonome had lied?

The first time that Chrono had wondered, he and Tokoha went down to the small apartment that housed the ex-members of Company for the time being.

Ibuki joined them that first time and every time afterwards, but Chrono wasn’t sure if that was for supervision or if he also wondered.

After all, Shinonome had admitted afterwards that he was the reason why Ibuki had been able to enter the Stride Gate in the first place. 

So was it so inconceivable, was it that unbelievable, wouldn’t it be reasonable - 

That first time (and every time after that, really), Shinonome had seemed so eerily calm, so collected.

Chrono got up in his face, called him a liar. Asked him where Shion was, where he had taken him. Demanded that he return Shion.

(Ibuki stopped him before he started begging.)

Shinonome gave the same story that he had given the first time. The two of them had fought, Shion had won, then Shion pushed him out of the way when a boulder was about to fall on him. Shion died on impact, and that was that. According to Shinonome, the next thing he knew, the Stride Gate had closed and Shion was gone, in every sense of the word.

Time after time, Chrono demanded the truth and Shinonome delivered the same story.

The visits ran like clockwork. 

Afterwards, Chrono, Tokoha, and Ibuki would always mull over the story.

Shinonome was a prideful creature, why would he admit that he had lost if it wasn’t true?

(Or was that what he wanted them to think?)

Putting aside whether he won or lost the Fight, why Shion? None of the other Judgment matches ended with one player ceasing to exist.

Better yet, how could Shinonome even erase someone? Did he have the power to influence Cray, or did he somehow have the power to do it himself?

After the fourth visit, with Ibuki excusing himself to go back to the Vanguard Association headquarters for urgent business, Tokoha and Chrono headed to the rooftop. Shion’s memorial sat by Tokoha’s feet as the two of them looked out on the Tokyo skyline, watching as the day’s light sunk beneath the conglomerate of skyscrapers.

“Is it really that inconceivable?” Tokoha suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Chrono turned towards her.

“Because I’m starting to think,” Tokoha continued, still facing outwards, the sunset reflecting in her shining eyes, “I’m starting to think that it’s not.”

Chrono stared at her.

Because truly, it was not.

Was it completely implausible that Shion had won against Shinonome?

No, he’d done it before.

Was it that unbelievable that Shion had risked himself to save his enemy?

No, he was that noble.

Was it so inconceivable to believe that Shinonome had told the truth?

No, it was not. 

* * *

The little things still threw Chrono off.

Sure, every time he saw a mention of the Kiba Group he flinched. He’d caused more than one incident at school with his tendency to lunge at any flash of blond hair in the hallways. The first time he had fought against a Royal Paladin player, he threw the match.

The first time he fought against a player who used Altmile, he’d nearly had a full-blown panic attack.

But there were also the little things.

Like, how Tokoha accidentally ordered chives the first time they went out for okonomiyaki. Neither of them liked chives, but it was Shion’s favourite. 

And, how Chrono once spent half an hour on a Math problem, called Tokoha, who also didn’t know how to solve it, and ended up having to ask a teacher about it the next day. Shion would have figured it out in under five minutes.

There were dozens more. How Tokoha’s eyes never had that same glint anymore, like when Shion and she used to band together to tease Chrono. How their school’s fencing club just wasn’t winning tournaments anymore. How there was no one around to smooth awkward situations with charismatic eloquence, no one who seemed to know about all the greatest Vanguard Fighters in history, no one to point out how Chrono could have had one more attack that turn if he had just played the other card first.

The world was off.

But it was only off for them.

Chrono thought about that, the next time he went to the memorial.

(Bluebells and daffodils this time, and asters. Always asters.)

Shion’s parents, whom Chrono had never met, didn’t mourn the son they had never had.

Iwakura, Shion’s loyal butler, didn’t grieve the young master he had never served.

For their classmates, for Kamui and Mamoru, for Card Capital 2’s regulars, for anyone else that Shion had ever met, the world went on just as it always had. Just as it should.

But the world was still off.

Chrono sometimes wondered about the world, this world specifically.

The Fights of the Stride Gate between the Arbiters was to decide Judgment, as determined by the truth of the universe. The Judgment was supposed to lead to the ideal future.

What type of ideal future was this?

What had Shion done to deserve this Judgment?

(What had Chrono done? What had all of them done?)

Though, in some ways, Chrono supposed that this made sense.

After all, even time could not defeat death.

And if Chrono, who had known Shion for all but a year, was already so affected by his death, how would Shion’s parents have fared? Iwakura?

Maybe this was the universe’s way of being kind.

(Kind to those who were deserving, who were innocent.)

Sacrifice ten for the happiness of all.

Perhaps it was better this way.

* * *

Tokoha went off to France for high school, as she had planned.

She told Chrono a few weeks before their middle school graduation.

“I just need a fresh start, you know?” Tokoha said.

Chrono didn’t point out that it was Shion who had taught Tokoha how to pronounce her R’s back when she first started learning French. He didn’t point out that it was Shion who had helped her look into exchange programs, read through her applications, and built her a spreadsheet for her budget.

A fresh start, laden with old memories.

“If that’s what you want,” Chrono replied, leaning against the railing.

They were on the rooftop again, because that’s just where they were nowadays. The two of them still spent time together and still talked. They were still friends, they just spent less time Fighting each other. The familiarity and the dynamic brought back nothing but bad memories.

“Yeah, I think this is what I want,” Tokoha confirmed.

Her hair floated gently in the spring breeze.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, after a beat of silence.

Chrono thought about it.

“It’s what he would have wanted.”

Tokoha didn’t say anything after that.

A few weeks later, Chrono waved goodbye to Tokoha at the airport security gate and started high school at Tokyo Metropolitan Harumi.

Life was fine, he supposed. The only person he was close to who was still around was Okazaki. 

Or, Kumi, as he was now supposed to call her. Because they had been on the same team together for a few months after all.

The world went on. Chrono got average grades, made no new friends, and spent most of his time glancing out the window. After class, he went home, cooked dinner, did his homework, and went to bed. Occasionally, he’d have a shift at Card Capital 2 after school, but never more than twice a week.

Life was fine, but it wasn’t the same.

(It felt like Before. Before everything, before Vanguard.)

Life was fine, and then it wasn’t.

Chrono was woken up at 1:28am by a sudden loud jingle.

Blearily, he reached for his phone.

_Incoming call from: Tokoha_

Grumbling, he answered.

“Tokoha, what - ”

“Chrono, Chrono check your texts.”

Chrono frowned. Tokoha’s voice sounded off. Was she… crying?

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Chrono. Please, Chrono.”

“Alright, alright, I’m doing it.”

Squinting at the bright screen, Chrono opened his texting app and clicked on his new message from Tokoha.

And there it was, a picture attachment.

Blond hair, straight, bluntly cut at the chin.

Blue eyes, with that agonizingly familiar gleam.

A smile, worn casually, carefree.

It had to be, because it couldn’t not be.

_Shion._

* * *

Tokoha had been doing an interview with the three-time European Circuit Champion and world-renowned Fighter, Olivier Gaillard.

Gaillard was truly a self-made success story, rising from his upbringing in a humble orphanage to be at the pinnacle of Europe.

Part of the interview featured Gaillard touring Tokoha around his childhood orphanage. It was a cozy little place, lovingly furnished and obviously well cared for. Gaillard had clearly dedicated a lot of his free time and resources to giving back to the community that raised him.

Tokoha had been passing by a doorway when she caught sight of him.

The same blond hair and blue eyes.

The same smile, the same laugh.

The same aura.

He had been standing at a table, playing a game of Vanguard against a younger boy, with many other children standing around cheering both of them on. He was clearly putting on a show, overdramatizing his attacks and damages, and the kids were entranced by every moment.

He had been speaking French and his bangs had been styled slightly differently, but there was no mistaking it.

“Ah, that’s Shion,” Gaillard had said behind her, once he saw that Tokoha was frozen in the doorway, “he’s about your age, and he’s one of the best fighters we have.”

Shion.

Just Shion, as they learned later on. Not Kiba Shion.

This Shion had been abandoned as a baby, left on the steps of the orphanage when he was just two months old.

He was raised by the orphanage. Courteous and helpful, he pitched in with whatever he could, from chores to watching the younger kids.

This Shion was an academic prodigy, top of his class in the French equivalent of middle school. He earned a full scholarship to a prestigious high school, specializing in sciences. Although he’d never been able to afford to try fencing before, he’d always been interested in the sport. Surprisingly, he discovered that he had a natural aptitude for it when he joined his high school club.

Of course, under the influence of his big brother Gaillard, Shion also played Vanguard. His Avatar was Altmile, but that was because it was the first card that Gaillard had given him. Over the years, Shion developed into a talented Vanguard player, but he had never aspired to join a team or play in tournaments.

This Shion had other goals. He was going to use his talents to give back to the orphanage, just like Gaillard had. He planned on going to a good university, earning a business degree, and starting an organization to help kids like him.

This Shion was not Kiba Shion, but he was Shion.

After Chrono had gotten on the first flight he could book to Paris - thank god for his savings from his part-time job - and met up with Tokoha in a frenzy, they’d gone to the orphanage to see Shion.

Gaillard had been surprisingly understanding of the situation.

Chrono thought that the famous Fighter would laugh them out the front door when they had, tired and desperate, told him the truth: that Shion was their friend who had somehow been wiped out of existence, but for whatever reason they still remembered him. Gaillard had only chuckled.

“Honestly, this isn’t even the first time,” he had said.

Chrono was too eager to see Shion to dwell on what that meant.

This Shion, hilariously, still spoke Japanese. 

Kiba Shion’s first language had been Japanese, second language English, and third language French because of the business relationships that the Kiba Group had with French organizations.

This Shion spoke French, learned English in school, then taught himself Japanese after he realized that he had some Asian ancestry. 

Shion was polite, all smiles, and more than happy to chat with Chrono and Tokoha. He was more friendly and open than the Kiba Shion that they’d first met, but considering his new upbringing that wasn’t unexpected.

He offered to Fight Tokoha after learning that she was from the Vanguard Association. His playstyle had been exactly the same as Chrono remembered.

Chrono was not sure if Tokoha lost because of Shion’s skill or because of the tears in her eyes by the end of the match.

Obviously, Shion was concerned, but he was strangely accepting of Chrono’s weak explanation about how they’d both lost a friend not too long ago that played the same deck that he did.

This Shion, just like Kiba Shion, knew loss.

The three of them chatted about this and that and played Vanguard for the rest of the afternoon. There was no awkwardness, the type that was commonly associated with spending long periods of time with someone that you’d barely met. If anything, it felt comfortable. Familiar.

As if in some other life, the three of them already knew each other.

When Chrono and Tokoha left at the end of the afternoon, they exchanged contact information with Shion and promised to keep in touch. 

With that, Gaillard herded them into an awaiting car. 

The driver dropped the three of them off in front of a nondescript apartment building. Gaillard ushered them inside one unit, where they were greeted by the sight of Kai Toshiki.

According to Ibuki’s timeline reconstruction, this Team TRY3 barely had any interaction with Kai Toshiki. Tokoha had fought him and lost in the Star Gate Branch Quest, but beyond that they had never crossed paths.

But here sat Kai Toshiki, stoic as always. His gaze bore into Chrono and Tokoha.

Gaillard encouraged the two of them to explain to Kai what they had told him, which they hesitantly did.

Kai did not laugh at them either. Instead, he sighed and went to get a laptop.

Before long, they were in a video call with Ibuki and a blue-haired boy who introduced himself as Sendou Aichi (“Aichi is fine!”). Once again, they were asked to explain the situation.

After they finished this time, the blue-haired boy looked thoughtful.

“This is different from last time,” Aichi said, looking off into the distance, “this isn’t exactly a seal.”

“Nevertheless, it is Cray. And bonds. And Vanguard,” Kai stated.

“Hmm,” Aichi paused, tapping his chin, “have you ever heard of the multiverse theory?”

Ibuki’s eyes widened and Tokoha gave a small gasp.

“It’s the theory that there are an infinite number of parallel universes. There are universes out there where everything is the same, except you ate something different for breakfast this morning. There are universes out there where Vanguard doesn’t exist. We’re simply experiencing this universe,” Aichi explained.

“Are you saying,” Ibuki begun, slowly, “that Judgment switched us over to a different parallel universe?”

Aichi waved a hand.

“To be fair,” he addressed, “everything we do leads to a different parallel universe. But, maybe the events inside the Stride Gate couldn’t be reversed without compromising the validity of Judgment. So, we had to enter a parallel universe that was significantly different from the previous one in order to reach the ideal future.”

The room fell silent.

“But why this universe?” Chrono suddenly burst out.

Heads turned towards him.

“Why did it have to be _this_ universe?”

Aichi smiled at him.

“Well, we don’t know, maybe we’ll never know. But we could always ask.”

* * *

In his last year of high school, when his teacher dropped a career planning sheet onto his desk, Chrono already knew what he was going to write.

 _Job/Career Goal:_ Astronaut

He had a lot that he wanted to ask.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I wrote the entire outline for this story in 2017, and I found it a few days ago. Since I didn't really have anything better to do, I decided to make that outline into reality.
> 
> Stay safe, everyone!
> 
> Feel free to come scream about TRY3 with me on [tumblr](https://eclarius.tumblr.com)


End file.
